


A New Home

by RadientWings



Series: Songs of Shadow (Elriel Collection) [4]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Azriel is a bat boy in love and he is not going to let Elain get hurt on his watch, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, No siree, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 12:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadientWings/pseuds/RadientWings
Summary: Seers were rare and coveted, even in Prythian. Azriel knew this. So he also should have known that someone might come for Elain.(OR: Elain gets kidnapped; Azriel is not happy.)





	A New Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little something that I actually wrote a year ago for a tumblr prompt, but I thought it was about time I cross-post it here ;) Hope you enjoy!

He should’ve expected this. Elain was a seer – a thing so rare that it had taken them _months_ to figure out what she was. Azriel didn’t even know of any other seers alive today, that’s how few there were in Prythian and its surrounding realms. So he should’ve known this would happen, should’ve expected this. There were contingency plans he could have made, safety measures, something, _anything_. Anything that would have stopped this.

He shouldn’t be standing here, holding a bloody scrap of Elain’s dress.

Azriel’s insides were cold, his focus narrowed down to the pale pink cloth he held between his fingers, the edges stained a horrible shade of red that was all too familiar. 

They’d planned this, the people that took Elain. They must have been watching them for _days_. How else would they have known when Azriel would be gone? When Azriel was due to make his weekly report to Rhys? How else would they know when Elain liked to explore the wild forest that surrounded his cabin? A place that no one but he and Elain were supposed to know the location of?

(The cabin was the only property that Azriel kept secret from the others, hidden deep within the forests that separated Velaris from the Court of Nightmares. It was his own personal sanctuary – a place he went to when even the shadows became too much for him to bear. A place of quiet contemplation… well, until Elain had brightened its walls with her mere presence. Until Elain, lovely Elain, had made his sanctuary a home, even if only a temporary one. Until he could recall, with utter clarity, what Elain’s laughter sounded like in the sparse space of his cabin bedroom.)

This was supposed to a relaxing trip, a way for both he and Elain to spend some time in just each other’s company… to be at peace. This time of year was hard for them, after all, awash with bad memories of Hybern and stabbings and Kings who threw innocent human girls into the Cauldron for spite.

So this wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn't supposed to happen, _this wasn’t supposed to happen._

He was supposed to be the _spymaster_ ; _how_ could he have let this happen? (He’d failed. Failed the person that mattered most to him. Failed the one person who had seen every inch of who he was and not recoiled… who’d embraced him instead.) The scent of blood overwhelmed him as he continued to stare at the scrap in his hands, which he had found impaled on the branch of a tree that had clearly seen better days. Bits of its bark had broken off, the trunk cracked from what he was sure was a hit with preternatural strength. The ground around it bore the signs of a hellish struggle.

One thing was clear; Elain had fought back with all her might. _But being untrained can only get you so far_ , the pragmatic part of Azriel’s mind told him. Panic was threatening to claw through the ice-cold fury piercing his heart, but Azriel didn’t let it. He couldn’t. He needed clarity, the clarity of Azriel the legendary shadowsinger, not the confused desperation of Azriel the man in love. He examined the grounds for a moment longer with the same cold and ruthless practicality that had earned him his feared reputation.

And then he saw it – remnants of faebane amidst the broken branches. And he knew, _he knew_ who had done this. Despite their victory in the war, a few Hybern’s more cunning troops had escaped into the mortal realms on the continent. Most of them had become brigands, outlaws, thieves-for-hire.

But some… some had become traffickers. And seers were a rare ‘commodity’. Elain’s kidnappers were likely to sell her to the highest bidder.

There were no words to describe the anger that hit Azriel at this realization; the sheer _rage_ that settled in his very bones, in his blood… in the shadows that whispered to him. _Find her,_ he thought to them, sending his power out into the world. His shadows would track down her familiar essence as he searched the forest from the skies.

Azriel was already running as the plans solidified in his mind, his wings spreading wide. In the next moment, he was flying, powering through the harsh wind. Normally, he would revel in the thrill of being able to use the wings he was born with, after that gift had been denied to him for so long… but now, now he was only focused on _getting her back_.

Perhaps he should go to Rhys… perhaps he should go to _Feyre_ ; they’d want to know, after all. Elain was their family, as much as she was his. The both of them, the entire Inner Circle, would do anything to get their seer, their _friend_ , back. But Azriel couldn’t leave now. He was already on the hunt. (He wouldn’t let this go until he crushed the bones of those responsible, until he drove Truth-Teller _through their skulls_.) 

He was in the air for longest hour of his life, when he felt it, his shadows tugging at him, whispering to him. _There_ , they told him in words that weren’t really words, _there she is. Down by the river, there waits the lady of fortune for the master of shadows. There she is. Find her. Avenge her. Retrieve her._

_There she is. There she is._

Azriel felt his lips pull back into something vicious when he finally spotted them from above. He was completely silent, a wraith in the darkening sky as he catalogued the exact layout of the clearing where he could see the barest hint of light pink stand out from a wash of greens and browns.

_Elain._

The relief that flooded through him was short lived upon noticing the four figures surrounding her, herding her in like she was some kind of wild animal. (His insides roared at the mere thought of anyone treating Elain like an animal, like _cattle_.) But Elain, gentle Elain, blessedly alive Elain, she was standing strong despite the odds against her, despite the rope still around her wrists.

 _She’s escaped them_ , he thought with savage pride. Elain abhorred violence, this much was true, but she was also intuitive in a way that most couldn’t ever hope to be; not many understood that were was a natural strategist hiding under her innate gentleness. But Azriel did, and he had no doubt that she waited to escape until they reached this clearing very much on purpose, knowing it would make it easier for him to track her.

 _Clever, clever woman_.

Azriel didn’t linger in the skies any longer; he tucked his wings in and _dived_. He went hurtling to the ground, unafraid as he snapped out his wings to catch him at the last possible second. A mighty boom echoed through the clearing as he landed right in front of Elain, keeping her behind him protectively. 

There was silence for a long moment, as Elain’s assailants all stared at him in shock and fear, eyes lingering on the sheer number of siphons he wore on his armor. And then he heard a shuddering gasp of relief from behind him, felt bound hands touch the center of his back for the briefest moment, as if needing reassurance that he was really there. 

“Azriel,” Elain whispered.

The sound of his name from her lips shattered the strange sense of peace that had settled over the clearing. One second all was silent, and the next there was a sudden burst of movement all around them as the four faeries charged for him. Azriel unsheathed Truth-Teller with utter, disarming calmness. There was a gleam in his eyes, though, that promised violent retribution. 

(Elain had no doubt seen what was about to happen, stepping back slightly to allow him some more room. Azriel felt her absence keenly, but used it to fuel his fighting rage.)

The first of the faeries reached him then – and it didn’t take much more than a second for him to be dead on the ground, a gaping hole where his eye had once been. Azriel smiled darkly, a grim thing without any joy in it, Truth-Teller already whirling into the next body. From there, the fight became a blur, his blade and his shadows easily overpowering the last three faeries. He didn’t even consider letting them live and interrogating them, as he should have. All he knew was the fury, the fear of having Elain ripped away from him. All he saw was that bloody scrap – the only thing they had left him.

So he was merciless in his slaughter, his shadows reveling in the bloodshed he wrought. _Avenge her_.

And when it was finally done, when their blood coated the blade of his legendary sword like a second skin, Azriel finally turned back to Elain. For a moment, he was afraid of what he would find in her eyes when they looked at him now. Would she be frightened of the lengths he would go to for her? Would she be revolted by his bloodlust?

(Would she turn away from him?)

He needn’t have worried, however; he realized that Elain was thinking none of things when their gazes finally, _finally_ connected. There was no fear in those beautiful brown eyes of hers; only relief and love and concern for _him_. She darted to him without hesitation, throwing herself against his chest, her still-bound hands clutching desperately at his armor. A shudder went through her when she pressed her face into the bare skin of his neck; as if she finally let the fear she’d been keeping at bay in. It was the sound she made, that little half-sob that she couldn’t quite hide, that finally made him spring into action, his arms crashing around her. He tangled his fingers in her loose hair, holding her close, and just _breathed_ her in. 

 _She’s here. She’s really here_. The relief hurtled through his blood then, nearly sending his knees buckling.

“You came for me,” Elain said, voice thick with tears, the words the very same from so long ago. 

Azriel kissed her temple softly. “Always,” he said. “Always.”

Elain responded by leaning further into him, using the grip she hand on his armor to lever herself up so she put her lips to his ear. “Thank you.”

Everything in him, every lingering tense line in his body, softened at her gratitude. _Lovely Elain_ , he thought. He ran his over the back of her head, holding her for a moment longer before he parted from her, but only enough so that he cut away the rope from her hands. Her wrists had been rubbed raw under their strain; the only injury she sustained other than the cut on her upper arm, the sleeve of her pink dress ripped around it ( _the scrap_ , he thought). Azriel was cautious as he examined the wound closer, relieved to find the bleeding had already slowed. He ran the tips of his fingers lightly from the tops of her arms back to her wrists.

Carefully, he took her hands in his, lifting them so he could place the softest of kisses on each injured wrist. (Elain often did the same for him, when she was feeling especially tender, kissing every inch of his scarred hands as if she could erase every bad memory he had by replacing them with good ones.)

Elain’s smile was tremulous but genuine, her eyes fill with quiet adoration. “ _Oh Azriel,”_ she let out.

He picked her up easily, letting her rest in his arms. “Let’s go home.” 

“Home,” she repeated, wrapping her arms around his neck. She nuzzled into his neck again, laying her head against his shoulder. It stayed there the entire flight.

Instead of going back to the cabin however, Azriel flew them to Velaris, to the house that was waiting for them in the City of Starlight, their family along with it.

(Even so, home wasn’t actually a _place_ to Azriel anymore… no, his home was already in his arms. And he wasn’t planning on letting go any time soon.)


End file.
